


drinking you in

by parareve



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: /eyes, /rings the dinner bell for yall sinners, Body Worship, D/s undertones, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Hair Kink, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, M/M, Rough Sex, Teasing, Vampire Sex, do i know how else to tag porn?, fai knows exactly what he's doing, i absolutely do not, kurogane's new nickname is Blushing and Bossy, this man saying please? it's more likely than you think, vampire kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:33:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21589168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parareve/pseuds/parareve
Summary: “Do you want this?” Fai asks, and the dark purl of it gives no promise of it being offered again.“Yes.” It’s a growl, thunderous and low, its heat searing beneath Fai’s bones almost as viciously as the eyes that slit to burning sparks beneath dark lashes. There’s a challenge, in them, and just as equally ademand. (Fai knows what Kurogane looks like, when he wants—hasseenit, more than enough times, within bustling crowds and dark rooms and rain-muted mornings alike—and now is no exception.)
Relationships: Fay D. Fluorite/Kurogane
Comments: 12
Kudos: 66





	drinking you in

**Author's Note:**

> [Florence](https://open.spotify.com/track/5xJt5bwhmypiqHRVDjPGYH) is forever my inspiration and Ryssa is a wicked enabler. This is shameless fanservice. I need an ambulance.

“I’m _ruined_!” groans Fai, and the husk in his voice sounds suitably so—rice wine and sweet cakes linger still on his tongue, a silken purl of the laxness from alcohol and honeyed energy both that leaves him cattish and content, save the gleam of irises just a tad too gold to be human—and Kurogane _Hn’s_ beside him, hunched upon their terrace with his own bottle of _shochu_ still nursed where it sloshes between his fingers. “This palace has spoiled me rotten. _Nothing_ to do but eat and drink, and paint and write, and spend hours and hours whittling away at charms— _agh_ , I’ve grown lazy, Kuro-sama; soon, you’ll be begging to leave me.”

“Not much has changed, then,” scoffs his lover, fixing a pointed glare over the neck of his bottle. He takes another heavy swig, swallowed slow down a gritting throat that summer heat has done nothing to soothe. (The sight before him doesn’t help, either; he reasons there’s two or so more gulps he can drag down, a good enough excuse to stay occupied—once his drink's run out, staying still will prove a vicious battle—but he isn’t there, yet, and so he savors another breath over the glass that kisses the ridge of his lip, a rasp of hesitation before the bottle is tipped back again.) Fai takes good effort to leer at him through swaying knees; from where he is laid, he looks like something painted from moonlight itself, hair turned to silver currents beneath the tilt of his head, the part of his _yukata_ over gleaming stripes of lean limb (yet no less _toned_ —he could be a fearsome thing, in his own right, enough years of sparred practice and bloodshed a clear enough testament to it) putting a knot in Kurogane’s chest that has nothing to do with the night’s humidity.

“And just what are you trying to say?” Fai demands, lifting his palm from the floorboards to point vaguely his direction. “So _rude_ —here I do so _much_ for you, Kuro-sama, and look what that’s done me, being _insulted_ so—”

“ _Tche_.” Kurogane keeps his eyes on the clusters of chrysanthemum that bloom violet against the settling dark; they’ll be dew-dropped and dusty blue, come morning, their scent always the most pleasant after the rain. (Clouds have been rolling in, since sundown. The taste of ozone is a distant thing on his tongue—still, he turns to give a passing glance to the filtered starlight above, pondering when the night’s silence will be interrupted. The mage loves the rain, sleeps better with it—it’s good enough reason as any to hope for a storm, not counting the withered leaves sorely in need of one.)

“You torture me,” comes a soft whisper, almost too quiet to be heard. Kurogane cuts up one brow, sending a puzzled glance to the man lounged out beside him, and the lazy smile given in return is nothing _subtle_ ; Fai stretches out one bare foot to tap a fair toe to his hip, his other knee drawn into a lazy wag as blue eyes chase from sharp ear to cotton-draped thigh, the drag of them warm as a blade. He’s far too indecent, splayed out like this—but there is no one else to see, and so Kurogane drinks in the sight welcomely, taking some deep-seated satisfaction in the knowledge that it is something _his_ , and his alone. “How can you be so beautiful, just sitting like that?”

Something chokes in Kurogane’s lungs, makes the next swallow he’s attempted catch on his tongue. He’s not a man to blush lightly (hardly a man to blush, at _all_ ), but the heat that spills from neck to cheek betrays him, too quick a thing to be wrestled down. Fai takes in the reaction with a gleam in pale eyes and a raising quirk of fair brows, head tilting against the floorboards, and against the sting of them both Kurogane shoves air down his tongue, cuts his eyes stubbornly aside. (There’s only a good swig of liquor left, swished messily within its glass. He knocks it back without a second thought, its burn a numb trickle beneath his breast.)

“Kuro-sama,” Fai purrs. His voice is thick, fogged at the edges, hitching too close to a purl Kurogane knows as well as he knows the piercing stare of liquid gold. A shiver spills down his shoulders at just the thought, just the _image_ , too much sensation attached to such memory to be ignored. “You’ve gone red.”

“Hn.” Kurogane puts every ounce of his being into sounding indifferent. (May have succeeded, too, if the slither of want, power, _predator_ hadn’t slipped over the mage's aura like a well-worn cloak. Its an instinctive response, the quiver of _prey_ that settles beneath his bones. Kurogane struggles to swallow, again.)

“ _Hn_.” Fai’s toe drags purposefully along the line of his thigh, the curl of that wicked mouth twitching at a smile coy as it is lethal when the ninja’s eyes can’t resist a trailing glance from sun-kissed ankle to bared knee, a sliver of shadowed thigh beneath. “Sounds to me,” he murmurs, “like it’s not something you hear much, hm?”

Kurogane huffs out something close enough to be a scoff, taking some effort to jerk his eyes away. (The bottle is empty, now, its weight too heavy beneath his fingers, and he fiddles with it aimlessly, a poor excuse for diversion from the touch that fans over his knee.)

“Well,” Fai continues, voice turned silken and soft, “If we weren’t out in the open like this, I’d have that robe on the floorboards already.” His voice melts into a honeyed husk of a thing, the growl of a beast too honest to be anything else, and Kurogane grows still as stone, throat unexpectedly tight.

(He peters his fingers over still-warm glass and draws in a clumsy breath, eyes jerking from those very floorboards to stare into the garden before them.)

“Maybe you should take me inside, then,” he blurts, and it sounds like a brick of sand crushed by a tire and thrown to sea again; hearing so only pulls the itch of heat in his skin higher, shoulders stiffening quick as a lightning strike.

(Part of him wants to curse and find his footing and fumble far, far away, broken ( _wanting_ ) as he already sounds; part of him couldn’t give less of a living _shit_ —getting out of his clothes was beginning to sound like the best idea they’d had all night, and if the mage was going to _offer_ , well…he wouldn’t be the one to say no.)

Fai hums, a slow rumble of a thing. “Maybe I should.”

Kurogane makes the mistake of glancing his way, dark brow prickling at a furrow and cheeks stinging all the more—he’s ensnared by luminescent blue and flecks of molten, stinging _gold_ , the bloom of black in the mage’s ( _vampire’s_ ) eyes not quite feline, but not quite human, either. His pulse stumbles over itself and his lungs clap shut, too routine beneath the sight of hunger ( _thirst_ ) to feel ashamed, but his skin _burns_ ; Fai licks his lips, tilts his head thoughtfully, sizing up the man before him like examining a steak fine enough to strip one of their salary, and a strangled, half-formed noise catches on Kurogane’s tongue, short enough to vanish as soon as it comes but still very _heard_.

A grin slides over Fai’s mouth. “Is that what you want, Kuro-sama?” (The teasing is gone; there is only _heat_ , just enough of a lilt in that voice to be polite through the prowl.) Devastatingly blue eyes blink up at him from the terrace floor, one blonde brow perking questioningly. “You might have to tell me.”

(Kurogane is convinced they can see him from space, at the rate his ears start to burn.)

“Wh—” he splutters, finally, clinging to empty bottle like a lifeline. “F-Fucking _hell_ , Mage—”

“Oh, so you _don’t_?” Fai lifts his head clear from the paneling, mouth carved in a teasing pout. He drops it back down, rasping his fingers in a nonchalant turn above him. “Pity—”

“ _You_ —” Kurogane shoots him a baffled glare, bites down a growl, brow wrinkling tight in exasperation as he strips his eyes away. “Don’t—be such a _shit_.”

“You are so _red_ —I have _never_ —” That voice is three worlds too delighted, and Kurogane pinches his shoulders clear to his ears, burning a hole through the wood grain beside him. He hears him move long before he sees him, the hiss of skittering fabric chasing down his spine, and he jerks his eyes to the tilting head of starlit fringe that leans into his peripheral, quick to tear them away again.

“Don’t be shy,” Fai whispers, a gentle smirk that rasps over the hollow of one cheek. “If you want it, just tell me.”

There’s the faintest brush of teeth, a puff of warm breath, when that mouth smooths down to trace parting lips over the start of that strong neck—and Kurogane’s breath hitches, an helpless choke of a thing where brows twitch and long lashes squeeze shut, his head tilting in silent beckoning for teeth and tongue and the piercing bite that so often follows.

Fai waits, the heat of his breath a molten thing; the wet flick of his tongue is so _close_ , a shiver spilling down that broad back at the stillness alone. Scarred fingertips find where his own clench rigid above his thigh, dragging from knuckle to wrist in a hush of roughened skin. “I would _love_ ,” Fai breathes, too close to Kurogane’s ear, and the low rumble of it leaves dark brow wrinkling and dusky lips parting into a coarse pant against the knot that ties beneath his gut, “to see every inch of you—” A kiss lands on the shell of his ear. “—laid out for me—” Another, just below. “—flushed—” Another, open and wet on the tremor of his neck. “— _breathless_ —”

“ _Fine_ ,” Kurogane rasps, head jerked away and throat too dry. “Fine!”

“Oh? ‘Fine,’ what?” Fai’s smirk deepens, trailing a tender drag of blunt nail over spasming wrist. Kurogane smacks his hand away, burning crimson.

“Fine, whatever, I don’t care, just _stop talking_ ,” he babbles, senseless and already short of breath. He shoots the mage a glare that could cut glass before staring firm away, one palm jerking high to scrub over the back of his neck. “Fucking shit.”

“Fond of ‘fucking’ tonight, aren’t you?” Fai giggles, barely missing the flinging fist that launches clear for his skull; he sways out of the way smoothly, laughter hardly contained as he draws himself to his feet. “My, my—shy _and_ rude, whatever shall I do with you?” Fair fingers find the shiver of one broad shoulder, trailing over loosened collar to brush over dark nape, and Fai presses out another knowing hum as his nails chase leisurely into raven hair, wrecking another tremor over that firm back. “You’ll have to close the screens for us, Kuro-sama.”

It’s the last straw, for his lover; the empty bottle of his liquor is dragged from the floorboards in a scraping hush, clunked heavily to his thigh where he stumbles to straighten, and Fai barely has the time to breathe—for then he is turned upon, bloody eyes flashing hot as midnight flame, and through heavy steps, Kurogane herds him back through the dark, a burning stare chasing from pale ankle to parting mouth. Fai clumsily leads him on an unseen path, unable to help the twitch of a grin that dimples his cheeks as their terrace _shoji_ are clattered closed with hardly a glance. The moonlight filters through the screens in a faded wash of white-blue, and Fai can do nothing but swallow as the man before him draws in a rattling breath, lets glass slip from his fingers to fall to the _tatami_ in a muffled _thwunk_.

There’s a moment—pulse quickening, and lungs still, and lashes blinking fast—that he’s trapped in the flicker those ember eyes, unable to do anything but mimic the dryness of that dark mouth where jaw tenses and throat ripples.

“You,” breathes Kurogane darkly, a rush of heat that spills shivers across Fai’s nape where he steps forward, too close through the shadow, “are a goddamn _tease_.” One heavy hand coils within the waist of his robes, dragging him closer still. “Y’know that?”

Tugged only slightly off balance, grin unfurling soft and slow, Fai’s hands tangle within the drape of his sleeves; curl slow upon the scar-speckled muscle that cords firm through dark forearms. “ _Well_ ,” he mulls, “I suppose it can’t helped,” and can’t manage another word past that; there are lips (full and soft and open and _warm_ ) on his jaw, and big hands tugging impatient at the ties of his _obi_ , meandering him back through the dark, and Fai takes the lay of his weight with a fluid turn of willowy ankle and fingers twisting through wrinkled cotton, hauling closer, pulling _down_.

They nearly trip over a low table with scrolls still laid out from earlier reading, their pages clattering to the flooring and unceremoniously kicked away—and while at any other time Fai would have reprimanded his lover for such blatant disregard of their appointed duties, in their haste (heady, burning, _now now now_ ), he can hardly bring himself to care; only a breathless giggle leaves him, hands falling slow about the sweep of Kurogane’s neckline, a firming tug. “Come _here_ ,” he sighs, and he is falling, teeth on his neck and hands clawing at his waist, the hot, heavy swoop of gravity lost tearing hunger ravenous through his blood as much as it does thrill.

Their futon pads thickly beneath Fai's knees, cushions the heavy _thud_ of Kurogane’s back where he’s dragged into a clumsy heap; he gives no complaints, though, calloused fingers a warm thing where they curl into golden hair and yank that chasing mouth closer. Breath scatters between their lips, Kurogane’s other palm dragging up the splay of his thigh to wrestle skittering fabric out of the way and bite deep into his flank, the heat of his skin like a brand.

“ _Ah_ ,” Fai rasps, muddled between kisses that make him too dizzy to think. “So _impatient_ —”

Kurogane smirks, teeth slanting dangerous and sharp; he breathes out a _Heh_ where his mouth turns, tracing the curve of fair cheek. “One to talk—”

“ _I_ only offered.” Blue eyes fix wickedly on blinking blood-brown, any further kisses stolen away with the stare of them. “ _You_ were the one so eager to begin.” It’s enough of a thing—a callout, a pause, a breath—to leave that smirking mouth slipping closed, throat bobbing sudden. “I’m going to ask again, Kuro-sama.” Fai tips his head forward, the heat of his breath chasing between their mouths where lips catch and lashes flutter, shoulders shifting with the prowl of that lean body, looming, _controlled_. “Do you want this?”

Kurogane finds his tongue somewhere through the quiver in his limbs, blinking baffled and cheeks heating all over again. “Wh—” He has to wrestle down the flare of murder that singes beneath his bones, exasperation and sheepishness both leaving him to do nothing but bumble out a seething hiss, “You’re gonna start this shit, _again_ —”

There’s a laugh in Fai’s chest, half contained where he tilts to press a gentle kiss to the sharp crest of his jaw. “Well, since my Kuro-shy _likes_ it so much—”

“ _Bastard_ —” A nip of teeth lands over the start of his neck. Kurogane’s words cut out into choke.

“Do you want this?”

Lips part, wet and warm. The kiss turns to the barest flick of burning tongue, teased down the line of that tilting throat. “I—” Another, dragged up the pound of thick tendon; Kurogane’s pulse _jolts_ beneath his tongue, the hand in fair hair falling in a clumsy weight to sink into their bedding, a numb clench of firm fingers where knees twitch and thighs draw wider. Fai can’t resist planting another nip here—a deeper thing, the press of his teeth kneading with slow purpose—and Kurogane puffs out the start of something guttural and needy; rolls his head back farther, a familiar tension strung up from his shoulders to his ankles that tugs an arch into his spine and a curl in his toes. Fai settles into the space that opens for him easily, branding a hum into the flutter of that rippling throat as the heavy heat of his lover’s palm on his flank rasps higher, gliding with slow purpose over the wrinkling cotton at the small of his back.

“Do you want this?” Fai asks again, and the dark purl of it gives no promise of it being offered again.

“ _Yes_.” It’s a growl, thunderous and low, its heat searing beneath Fai’s bones almost as viciously as the eyes that slit to burning sparks beneath dark lashes. There’s a challenge, in them, and just as equally a _demand_. (Fai knows what Kurogane looks like, when he wants—has _seen_ it, more than enough times, within bustling crowds and dark rooms and rain-muted mornings alike—and now is no exception.)

“Mn,” purrs Fai, deep and devious and just a touch desperate, and if Kurogane shivers again (and he _does_ , breath catching against the slow slide of one willowy hand where it sweeps across the fabric at his breast, slipping with fluid ease to glide between heavy folds that shudder open against the swell of his breath, a burning line traced from collarbone to sternum), he does nothing to hide it. “ _Good_ ,” Fai says, and this time it is a whisper, hushed against the cusp of Kurogane’s ear; the rasp of scarred fingers on dark skin turns splaying and slow, teasing the lines of his _yukata_ open further, “because I— _oh_ , I—”

“Yes, I _know_ , get on with it,” Kurogane seethes, voice pitching in a way that leaves his skin burning all the more; there’s a knee nudging up the inside of his thigh, and cool air kissing over the quiver of his abdomen, and the silken rasp of the mage’s voice far too _close_ —all of it too much, and too _good_ , and rapidly not enough.

“ _Bossy_ , too,” Fai huffs, mouth curling slow at one corner. His fingers peter further, spidering over the quiver of muscle that carves a burning valley from diaphragm to navel. “Already taking control, before I’ve even _started_ —”

It’s impulse and irritation both that drives the hand coiled at the mage’s back lower; rough fingers dimple supple flesh, bite through threads of embroidery where Kurogane tugs him closer, and the first contact of molten heat through the remaining layers of their clothes sends a shockwave dizzying as it is scorching up the line of his spine, a breath torn sharp through his teeth.

“Quit _talking_ ,” he hisses, muffled where his nose catches on the underside of that pale jaw. His head tilts farther, breath fanning hot over the mage’s skin to let lips trace and teeth tug. “Do you _ever_ —stop—”

There are fingers in his hair (a sensation he knows, and one he _craves_ ), curling sudden through its strands, and any further grumblings are wrenched away from him with the sharp tugging pull of his head back, _back_ ; he’s caught within eyes that sting blue as new-flame and winter frost at once, a hot-cold surge that leaves his pulse buried beneath his belly and a hitch in his breath, more rumble than sigh when Fai rolls his back into a slow arch, drags their bodies closer in a slow-swooping tide of white heat. Kurogane has some sense of mind to squeeze his palm further into the mage’s flank, to keep that friction firm and fluid and right where he wants it; his head falls back into the cushioning, nonetheless, the hand caught still in their sheets twisting enough to put a strain in its fibers where his lower back curves free from its warmth, a pant snared behind his teeth.

“ _Talking_ ,” Fai sighs, tangled through the whisper of their skin; his mouth traces the line of Kurogane’s jaw, golden hair soft as spun silk where it is puffed against his temple, “Is what got you so strung up like this, and I— _ah_ —won’t let you weasel out of that, for a second.” He’s smiling, the bastard—tucked beneath the slope of Kurogane’s chin, teeth nipping tender down the line of one tendon—and somewhere between the drag of nails down his nape and the plummet of his brain to his groin, Kurogane loses the will to keep up his banter. His fingers twist deeper through the layers of the mage’s _yukata_ instead, drawing open the gaping part of his neckline further to spill in a slithering hiss down his shoulders.

Fai hums against his skin, near-breathless; his teeth catch over the pulse-point beneath and stay there, an absent nibbling that leaves Kurogane’s nails biting through the crumpled folds of his robe and spine shuddering rigid, the squeeze of his lashes (long and sharp and impossibly dark) a sudden thing where his head tilts further (he expects, he _waits_ —for he is used to this, the process of lips and tongue and teeth and _in_ ; used to the blistering sting of split flesh and the dizzying wave of red-hot heat that comes with it).

It’s not unfamiliar, the taste of hunger that spills through the musk of his aura; still, Fai does nothing, for a moment, something taken none too kindly if the quivering huff of the man beneath is anything to go by. “You want me to bite you,” he says thoughtfully, and it is not a question, murmured slow into the pound of his lover's ( _prey’s_ ) blood with voice bleeding inhuman at the edges, vampire more than man.

Kurogane swallows hard enough to feel the weight of his mouth buoy against him. “Y’don’t…have to,” he manages, steady as he can. His fingers twitch aimless over the sheets, a fruitless thing to keep his hand still, lest it chase to the crown of that fair head and demand quite the opposite. “Not if you—if you don’t—”

“Want to?” Fai grins again, a little more impish.

Kurogane is halfway to snarling something self-incriminating and tactless, but then there is heat rolling against his belly and a firm knee sliding beneath his thigh, the sweep of the mage’s other leg a dangerously easy thing where it curls over his hip to slot them together, close enough to leave his brain fogging through the next lazy rut against him—and by then, the only thing he can think is that there are two layers too many still between them. “ _Off_ ,” is what he growls out instead, the hand tangled within Fai’s puddled _yukata_ wrenching cotton from smooth skin in a fluid tug. “Get all this shit _off_ —”

“I will, I _will_ ,” Fai breathes, husky and low and (still the _vampire_ ; roughened and satin and smoke and raw) pressed soft into his skin, the barest kiss touched to his collarbone, then his sternum. Blue eyes flick up through pale lashes, irises a touch too wide to be human, rimmed faintly with gold, and the shudder that crests down Kurogane’s spine comes more than half with anticipation. Fai smirks, bends his head down to kiss the edges of a scar that carves a pearlescent stripe not far from his heart. “I’m getting there.”

Another kiss, just below, and another, following the stutter of breath that leaves muscle quivering. “Meaning in—five _years_ , or—” Kurogane swallows again, fingers rasping to a fist through their sheets. “—or _now_ —”

“ _Meaning_ ,” Fai says, with a quick nip of teeth, “when—or _if_ —I get there.”

Kurogane is on one elbow before his brain can catch up to him, his voice wrestled down furious as he can through the shake of his lungs. “ _If_ —?!” Fai grins, wicked and warm where lips linger, a string of kisses traced down the puff of his diaphragm. “What the _hell_ d’you—Mage, I’ll— _skin you alive_ if you don’t—”

He can’t think (too much not enough too _much_ ), the words catching on his teeth like sleet on glass; it’s before he can force out another word that one nimble hand has worked itself from the firm ridge of his hip to worm between them, and then there are nails biting soft between his shoulders and teeth at his neck, his eyes squeezed shut and his jaw slacking.

“Shit,” he gasps, too breathless to be anything else; a furrow wrinkles quick through his brow, heat blooming across his breast, and seared into his pulse is the satisfied purr of a predator not nearly done with its prey.

“ _Mh_ ,” sighs Fai, only somewhat distracted. His fingers twist against the shape straining thick through hot cotton, slow as they are firm, and beneath him, Kurogane shudders; knifes his fingers through the sheets, bites down the middle of a breath that spills coarsely through his teeth. “I always _knew_ it affected you, but not like…” Another nibble down his neck, firmer now. “Not like—”

 _Mage_ , is what Kurogane wants to bark (heady and burning and _damn it all_ ), but, “M— _ah_ —” is what he manages instead, a strangled thing on the tip of his tongue, falling shiverish and sharp as the crease in his brow knots tighter. The muscle in his arm tremors against the strain, and he sucks in a breath through his teeth, drags his fingers rough enough against their sheets to feel its linens whining in protest. “ _Mage_ ,” he tries again, a louder huff; licks his lips, fights to steady his breathing. “I—” Fai’s lips pause on his neck, a kiss pressed just under his jaw that leaves his head rolling back farther. “I need—”

“I know,” Fai whispers, hushed soft into his cheek. The heat of his mouth is gone before Kurogane can chase it, back down the edge of his jaw, the ripple of his throat. “I know,” Fai says again, the coyness gone (desperation coiled in it, too, for he is just as _wanting_ )—and it’s all Kurogane can do to keep the sound trapped beneath his chest from slithering free when the last of their clothes is wrestled away (one sleeve pooled at his elbow and the mage’s discarded _yukata_ tangled up at their heels, but he can’t care, he can’t _think_ —he needs, he _wants_ —)

The next touch of pale fingers comes too soft (too _good_ ), skirting down the tremor of his abdomen to ghost across the line of bared flesh beneath. His elbow jerks, cotton rasping sudden where his arm slips; the palm at Fai’s flank fumbles, a rough-hot drag that anchors on crease of his knee. “ _Mage_ ,” he grits, thunderous for all it is low. “Pl—”

“Ah?” Fai’s brows raise, felt against the swallow dragged sudden down Kurogane’s throat. Against the heave of his chest, that lean body lays pleasantly heavy, tackiness building between the slide of their skin. “What was that?”

“You bast _ah_ —” Too slow, that hand, coiling gentle around him. Kurogane loses his train of thought quicker than he loses his breath; he’s distantly aware of cotton splitting beneath his nails, the jerk into that lazy touch impulsive as it is demanding. “ _Hh_ ,” he rumbles, purling and dark beneath his chest. (He needs more, he _needs_ —)

“Tell me,” Fai whispers, hushed like a prayer against his skin.

It’s too much (not _enough_ ), and Kurogane swallows again, chest huffing. There are teeth at the base of his throat, nipping up in a slow line, and into the flick of that molten tongue Kurogane rolls his head back (mouth open and wet against his pulse, that hand curling tighter where thick thighs splay open); pants, “ _Please_ ,” in a rushed hiss, nails dragging impatient against the inside of Fai’s knee.

“You want me to bite you?” murmurs Fai, teeth scraping firmer into the pound of his jugular. Kurogane’s palm slips from pinked skin, falling to the matting in a sharp _thwump_.

“Yes, _yes_ ,” he seethes, fingers curling tight. “Bite me, fuck me, _all of it_ —”

Fai’s breath scatters over his neck like a man drowned, a shaky little _Oh_ that leaves gold lashes blinking wide. He doesn’t take long to regain his composure, the hand scratching slow circles between his lover’s shoulders yanked forward to draw firm over dewy muscle; Kurogane falls willingly, knocked low to both elbows and head thrown back, eyes burning beneath smoked lashes with a heat that coils deep into Fai’s bones, and through the scuffle one heavy thigh raises to snare over the slim arc of his hip, a rough drag that knocks them both closer, leaves fair arms trembling.

“Hurry up,” Kurogane grates, breath heaving against the drag of those scarred fingertips, “hurry _up_ ,” and Fai laughs (but it is short and breathless and entirely too aching, eyes a golden flame through the damp scatter of his fringe).

“ _Alright_ ,” he gasps, fangs pricking at dark skin already. It’s almost too much for him to go slow, to think through the haze that fogs his mind with heat (but it’s not what his lover _wants_ , body quivering faint in anticipation)—and by the time Fai has called voiceless upon a spell to paint fingers slick and falling, his teeth are already sinking in, copper stinging euphoric on his tongue, and the shout that builds through the jolt of those broad shoulders vibrates clear to his toes.

The beast claims him, turns his weight unyielding and the twist of his touch greedy, and beneath the curl of his body, Kurogane _writhes_ ; jerks one hand from the linens knotted at his side into a skittering hush above him, a blind search for purchase where his nails dig in, his back bends. Whether it is from the fading pulse of violet magic or the bloody pierce of fanged teeth both, Fai can’t know; his palm slips across sweat-slick skin, his body dragged down by the muscle that trembles where heavy thighs yank him closer, and the blunt nails that scrape sudden at his back come half in warning—but he can’t stop, ambrosia spilling past his teeth and the heat of his lover’s body an intoxicating surge where wet fingers slip lower still; circle slow, curl _in_.

“F _ah—_ fuck—” Muscle quivers in the swell of Kurogane’s bicep, his hand spasming faint through the sheets above him. He turns into its warmth, rasps out another harsh, “ _Fuck_ ,” when nimble fingers twist deeper, and into his skin Fai lays another throaty laugh, lethal and low, the vibration of its heat chasing deep enough into his veins to make his spine curve clear off the sheets. It’s a nauseous vertigo, the sensation of blood drawn—too much like a drink too many, tingling heat through his nerves and pleasure far too sharply through the pain—and by the second pull, and the third (the mage’s wrist curling low, too knowing, too _good_ ), he can’t keep still.

“ _Inside_ ,” Kurogane pants, fingers fumbling from the lean curve of Fai’s back to tangle in white-gold hair. “Need you insi—” His hand knots to a fist, tugging none too gently. “ _Now_.”

Its with the hiss of a lion torn free from a kill that teeth slick from his neck in a bloody splatter, stinging and sudden. Crimson paints burning droplets across the curve of his shoulder, his temple, the bleached white of their sheets, and above him shivers a man with eyes blown blackened and wide, slitted pupils flitting down.

Fai’s mouth hangs open, breathless, gleaming with a red that smears vicious and beautiful across the white of his teeth. “Kuro-sama,” he says, only a hitch of a thing, and if ever Kurogane had doubted the strength of the beast beneath that fair skin, he trembles beneath its stare now: a knifing burn that strips through to the center of his being, strings heat violent through his gut and leaves his lungs stumbling where his head slumps to the matting. There’s nowhere else he can look, even through the next few curls of crooking fingers that strips his breath broken and the tangle of his touch through that fair hair spasming, the weight of Fai’s other palm an iron grip that scratches slowly from his side to lay a burning brand against his sternum.

“ _Kuro-sama_ ,” Fai sighs again, and here the mage’s control betrays him. Something feral curls in the bloom of black in his eyes, feline and otherworldly still, and against it all (blood searing in his veins and itching at his neck, pooling tacky and hot at the crease of his shoulder), Kurogane struggles to stay put, struggles to _breathe_ —

“Come on,” he huffs, edging only slight at a keen. “Come _on_ —” and Fai _breaks_ (swoops in, swoops _down_ , devours).

Kurogane tastes blood on his tongue and feels a groan coil desperate beneath his breast, the moment that firm touch flees from inside him—but it takes no time at all to be replaced, the fluid tide of their bodies joining to one a blinding shock that sizzles heat up his spine, and by then, he is gone.

“ _Ah_ ,” moans Fai, and into the wet part of his mouth Kurogane buries something choked and rasping; curls his fingers tighter through starlit hair, drags his nails desperate against the smooth snap of that fair back.

It’s too _much_ (not enough never enough need more need—)

“More,” Kurogane seethes, “ _harder_ ,” and Fai grins, dizzied with want.

“So _bossy_ ,” he breathes, with some semblance of teasing; he’s too far to keep the wit within it, though, the words stripped with the burning crash of his next thrust, firm enough to drive his lover back against the matting. One heavy hand slips to tangle within their sheets all the tighter, a helpless tether through muscle drawn taunt. “ _Always,_ ” moans Fai, only a hitch of a thing where he bows closer, and from the trailing heat of his parted mouth Kurogane steals a quivering breath; catches the edge of a kiss that melts into one slow and searing. “And so—” Fai’s fingers splay wide, latching firm upon sweat-slick skin where hip and flank meet, and the jolt of the broad body beneath yanked closer (pulled _deeper_ )—back sighing sharp upon the sheets, and strong thigh coiling tighter upon his waist—leaves bloody eyes screwing shut and groan tearing primal from his teeth.

“So _big_ ,” Fai finishes, breathless. Kurogane shudders beneath him, lungs shaky and brow twisting; he blinks open blackened eyes slowly, too glazed to focus in the dark, but they fall on the sight of pale hands nonetheless, twin blooms of moonlight where they trail against the sweep of his thighs. “Every inch of you,” sighs Fai, and down his hands fall, tracing over the tremor of Kurogane’s hips, skirting around the base of that thick cock. “ _All_ of you—”

“Fuck, _fuck_ —” Kurogane rasps, straining helpless towards friction ungiven, and then, “ _Fai_ —” and for all the fire in his voice comes lethal, the desperation in it hardly needs to be voiced; the broken, guttural strain of his breath sings through his teeth clear enough, head twisting back into the matting—and when another shockwave of heat scatters up his spine, one willowy hand dragging against the flat plane of his abdomen to curl slick around him, he loses himself to the dark and the flood of numbness that washes from his toes to his fingertips.

Fai is gone not long after, stolen away with the tide. Kurogane can feel the shaky fan of his breath on his shoulder, when he comes to; a heartbeat thunders warm against his own, fingertips tacky where they circle slow against his breast. Groggily, he shifts his palm; traces the damp line of that lean back, the prickle of his nerves slow to spark back to life.

“You still with me, Kuro-sama?” Fai whispers, lulling and soft.

Sandpaper lingers in his throat and deepens the husk of his breath, the furrow in his brow loosening. “Hgh.”

A laugh dances over the rising crest of his collarbone, Fai’s nose turning warm into it as his chest falls. “I lost you for a minute, there.” Fingers pitter faint over his sternum, a slow stroke that rises to brush back the fringe stuck to his brow. “Let’s hope you didn’t wake the castle,” Fai whispers, grinning impishly, “I’ve never heard you so… _loud_ —”

“Sh’dup.” Kurogane nudges one heavy hand over the mage’s crown for good measure, his other tracing absent over his back still.

It’s after some moments, breath coming slower still and golden lashes blinking faint against his chest, that Fai begins the process of untangling them from each other, movements slow and stiff even so. “Let me up, Kuro-sama; I’ll get us cleaned up—” The hand over his head tugs down again, soft for all it is sudden, his breath knocked into a little _Oof!_ against warm skin.

“Not yet.” Kurogane noses slow into his hair, breathes a sigh against his temple, no intention seen of letting the warm weight above him off just yet.

Fai melts a little beneath the lay of that roughened palm, no matter the exasperation that pulls his mouth twitching. “We’re a _mess_ ,” he huffs, halfway to a laugh. He prods one finger soft over Kurogane’s sternum. “If we fall asleep like this, you’ll be _fuming_ come morning.”

Kurogane smirks a little, puffing out a chuckle. “Probably.”

“Which means you will _blame me_ , and I won’t hear the end of it until—”

“Not _yet_.”

“ _Augh_ ,” Fai groans, burying his head into his lover’s shoulder. His grin pulls wider on one side, nonetheless. “ _Still_ bossy—” Another nudge lands on his head, firmer this time.

It’s enough of a thing to keep him quiet (for a moment, at least), and smiling still, Fai shakes his head; presses a kiss into the curve of dusky skin. “You _will_ stay awake, won’t you?” he murmurs. A breath scatters the frazzled fringe about his temple, the only response given. “ _Kuro-sama_.”

“ _Alright_ ,” Kurogane grumbles. Bloody eyes crack open to glare through the dim light, and against the sight of them, Fai laughs; rolls closer to plant a peck on his jaw, then claim a kiss, soft as he can. The grin doesn’t fade from his mouth, even as heavy arms pull him closer.


End file.
